“She’s so friendly. Why wouldn’t she have any high school friends on social media?”
I tap out of Kelly’s profile and find one of her classmates online. I check their friend lists and go down the rabbit hole tofind more students who graduated with Kelly. Finally, I get to a friend who follows Kelly back.
But when I click on the social media profile, it links to an old account that’s gone inactive. I click on the profile image and enlarge it.
My heart drops to my toes.
There’s that image of Kelly from five years ago.
Why is her high school friend following her old account and not her new one?
The hospital room gets colder. I shrug into a sweater and keep investigating.
Without fail,everyaccount that today’s Kelly Porter uses is completely different from the ones she had five years ago.
Getting locked out of one or two accounts is understandable, but Kelly had to recreateallof her social media accounts. Everything. She basically created an entirely new digital history.
Something is very weird about all this.
I send the high school friend a message, asking if I can talk with her about Kelly. She doesn’t immediately respond, and I check the time.
Crap. It’s after midnight. Pulling off my finger sleeves, I chew on my bottom lip.
A memory from the day I visited Kelly’s aunt returns to me.
“Kelly’s dead.”
Was the deranged aunt I met right? Even if she is, maybe Kelly has a good reason for assuming a dead girl’s identity? Maybe she’s running from gangsters or has really bad debt?
Or maybe she’s a murderer.
My phone rings and I yelp in surprise.
Beep.
“Yeah, yeah,” I mumble at the watch and pick up the phone. “Hello?”
“Why aren’t you sleeping?” Finn growls.
I blink in surprise and glance around. “Are you spying on me?”
“You answered the phone, Ghost. You’re obviously awake.”
My eyebrows scrunch at the nickname, but I concede the argument.
“I can’t sleep,” I mutter. My only friend lied about her identity, and I have no idea what other things she may have lied about.
“It was only one night, J,” Finn says, a strange undertone to his voice.
“What?”
“Can’t sleep if I’m not beside you?”
Whoa. Is Finn Cross…teasingme?
I snort as a sarcastic comment rises to my lips, but I suddenly remember the sensation of his fingers diving through my scalp. The feeling is so real that I whip around to check that no one else is in my hospital room.
I’m alone.
